Insatiable
by PrincessJade
Summary: Usagi needs some experience. She makes a proposition. Mamoru, unable to help himself, accepts. Story is set roughly in Season 1. Warning: Mature Content. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1: Propositions

**Insatiable**

Usagi and Mamoru. Roughly placed during Season 1. Usagi wants some adult experiences. She makes a proposition. Mamoru, unable to help himself, accepts. Warning: mature content.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or its characters. However, I do own these words. And I know some of their actions may seem slightly out of a character, but so what? It's fiction.

Authors note: I haven't written fanfiction in quite sometime, but I've decided to get back into it. Therefore, I decided to go back to my roots with Sailor Moon, which I used to write a lot of when I was younger. Anyways, I would really appreciate reviews.  And if you're into Spuffy fanfiction, feel free to check out my other stories as well. Thanks so much!

_Chapter One: Propositions_

"Mamoru!" Someone called out, a few feet behind him. He stopped, glancing back to see Usagi at the end of the block, running after him with determination, legs long and very white. "Wait up! I need to…need to speak with you!"

Out of curiosity, he let her catch up before continuing on down the street. His lips slipped into their trademark smirk, "Afternoon Odango. Where did you come from?"

"I was at the arcade when I saw you pass. I've been looking for you." She flushed at this confession, falling into step with him. She brushed some stray strands of hair away from her face before glancing up at him.

"You've been looking for me? Whatever for? Didn't get enough insults for the day?" Mamoru teased, watching her cheeks flush even more.

"Shut up, jerk." She answered, but with less venom then usual. She bit her lip, looking as if she was going to change her mind, but then she set her eyebrows into a line of renewed determination and grabbed his arm with surprising strength, pulling him into a nearby ally. She looked up at him, their eyes meeting. "I need your help."

"MY help?" This was the last thing in the world Mamoru expected to hear.

"Yes," She confirmed, her voice rising slightly, betraying her nerves. "There's this…this guy. And I know…well you're older…and experienced and I…I need you to teach me."

He hated to admit it, but he was slightly intrigued; though he feigned indifference as he sipped his coffee. "Teach you?"

Surprising him, she made the full proposition so unabashedly that he nearly choked on his coffee. Her pointed look confirmed his dangerous train of thought.

"What? You can't be serious, Odango Atama!" Laughter was the easiest reaction. He shook his head and side stepped past her to leave, but she grabbed a hold of his shirt. Angrily, he turned back to her, eyes cold. "Go home, Usagi. You're fourteen and don't know what you're asking for."

"But I do, Mamoru. I really do." She insisted, eyes clear and very serious. He realized that she had thought long and hard about this. "I know we don't get along. But that's okay. It's even better that way. It won't mean anything. And I won't tell anyone. Please, just one time Mamoru. You're the only guy I can think of. Teach me what you know. I can…can even pay you."

"I don't want your money." He was insulted she would even offer that. His eyes darkened. His expression unreadable. "Whoever this guy is, Usagi. He's not worth it. If he was, he wouldn't require you to have experience."

"But he doesn't know! This is my idea. Really, I want to learn!" She exclaimed, eager but desperate. Some of his resolve broke at the tone in her voice, but his face remained impassive. "Please, Mamoru. You don't have to teach me everything--just simple things."

"Sex isn't simple." He told her bluntly. She was too young. She shouldn't even be thinking about these sorts of things. He wondered what this guy she so wanted to impress was like. An asshole, most likely, he thought. "You don't want me to be your first. You should be in love."

She chewed on her lip and nodded in understanding. She was humiliated. She knew this was a bad idea. Knew she should have anticipated his rejection. Should have known his hatred of her was too strong to even be persuaded by the idea of sex. Should have known he would only see her as a silly girl. Should have known she was too unattractive. Stupid Usagi, she told herself. She really should have known better.

Still, she was still surprised how much his rejection hurt; hurt her pride, her vanity.

"I know. I want to be in love for that. I…just thought you would expect sex if I had asked you to teach me…other things. " She blushed and looked at the ground. Defeated, she confessed almost to the point of tears, "I've never even been kissed! I mean I don't know how. And I had thought that maybe you…"

She wanted to cry. She couldn't believe she had just said that. Could she die now? Could she just disappear down through the pavement? Oh, why was he still standing there? She didn't dare look up at him. She was afraid of the disgust in his eyes.

"Odango." Her innocence broke his heart. She was so pure. He sighed and stepped closer, lifting her chin with his free hand so their eyes could meet. Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes were huge, a liquid blue. She sniffled and looked very sullen. And he couldn't help himself. He knew this was the closest he had ever been to her and was startled by how much her presence overwhelmed him. He supposed it couldn't hurt to go along with her bizarre proposition.

"All right, Usagi." He whispered and saw the question in her eyes before he kissed her softly. Her lips were pliant under his and they tasted of lip gloss and bubble gum. She murmured a noise of surprise, before instinctively opening her mouth to his. She was surprised by how right his mouth felt against hers and wondered if all kisses were like this. A tingling began in the pit of her stomach, almost ticklish, and she giggled helplessly against his mouth.

Pulling away, he surveyed her appearance. She was pink and swollen, face completely open to his. What a cute little thing she was he mused.

She looked sheepish and started to apologize for laughing, but he shook his head and smiled. Clearly amused.

"37 C." He said, ignoring his sensible side, and lifted his coffee cup in farewell. His fate sealed.

"What?" She asked, still dazed by his kiss. She noticed that his face was different, even as his lips slipped back into their well practiced smirk.

"Apartment 37 C, Odango Atama. After school, hm? Don't be late."

"I…um…okay!" She called after him, but he was already around the corner and out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2: Taste

Author's note: Thank you all for your reviews! They are a source of motivation. Keep them up.  And I shall most definitely keep the chapters coming. If you have the song "Slow Like Honey" by Fiona Apple, feel free to listen to it as you read, since I wrote this chapter while listening to it. ;) Also, I'm looking for a beta, to look over my work but more to hash out chapter ideas. If you're interested, please email me.

Chapter Two: Taste

_So I stretch myself across, like a bridge_

_And I pull you to the edge_

_And stand there waiting_

_Trying to attain_

_The end to satisfy the story_

_Shall I release you?_

_Must I release you?_

_As I rise to meet my glory_

_Fiona Apple – Slow Like Honey_

It was almost five by the time Usagi arrived at his door, slim and golden in a pale blue dress; a cornfield stretched against an endless sky. Mamoru could tell she was nervous by the way she crossed her long limbs against her body.

"You're late. I thought you had changed your mind, Odango Atama." He smirked, his tone its normal, teasing one. It was a much easier role to play, for now, although he knew things were about to change. How could they not? Their relationship was about to take a most surprising and intimate turn. He knew this was wrong, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He already promised himself that he would not to do anything she wasn't ready for. He promised to go slow. And secretly, although he did not like to admit, drawing this out was half the challenge.

"Don't call me that, jerk." She replied, stepping into his apartment. It was definitely Mamoru, she noticed, surveying the dark tones, clean lines, and framed ink drawings. "I had a few things to do before I could get away."

"Like finding something to wear?"

"No." She said curtly, knowing full well she had tried on about a dozen dresses. "Like I would dress up for you? Please, don't flatter yourself."

Oh, but he was flattered. The whole scenario was flattering. Little Usagi coming to him to learn the art of seduction made him feel just as needed as his mysterious Princess did. Only she was real, breathing, and standing before him.

"All right, let's get this over with." Usagi said, moving past him to sit on the sofa. Then smiled and forced her fluttering pulse to calm. Her hair pooled around her, a golden waterfall, and she absently twirled a few strands between her fingers. Looking up, she teasingly said, "Teach me what you know, oh gracious Mamoru."

"I'm not going to sleep with you, Usagi." He told her, suddenly and very seriously. He stood before her, tall, handsome, and very grave. But then he smiled; eyes sincere and perhaps a little mischievous. "And lets think of tonight as session one."

"Session one? Like we're going to do this more than once?"

Mamoru nodded, smoothing out his gray shirt.

"You're not ready for it all. We'll go slow—promise. There are many other things besides sex, Odango—many ways to please." Then he flashed her a grin she'd never seen before. It unnerved her, but she met his eyes bravely. She would not be afraid. "You're not even comfortable with your own body yet, much less a man's."

"I…" She stuttered, indignant, but unsure of what to say.

He laughed and came to kneel before her, so they were eye to eye. Close up, she noticed how deep his eyes were. They were quite striking actually, the color of a winter night, fringed with black. To be honest, he was a beautiful, beautiful man; dark, mysterious, and lean in all the right places.

Did she really just think of Mamoru as beautiful?

"I won't touch you…with my hands." He murmured and placed his hands on either side of her.

"But you can…" She answered, not knowing if she preferred this "slow" business of his. She had most certainly never expected Mamoru to be so…so…alluring. And she couldn't help but wonder how many girls he had really been with.

"You talk too much, Odango Atama." He told her and leaned closer, forcing her knees apart.

"Do not! I didn't come here to be…eep!" He cut her off with a kiss, increasing the pressure as he moved even closer.

"Mmm…" Melting into the couch, she spread her hands across his chest, which was pleasantly solid. She decided that she didn't mind kissing Mamoru, instead she rather liked it. But when he slid his tongue across her bottom lip, she squeaked in surprise at the wild sensation that ran from her toes to the pit of her stomach. She shuddered, mouth opening to his, and pressed her knees tensely against his sides.

Smirking, he pulled back enough to make sure she was okay. The light flush of her cheeks and the erratic rise of her chest was answer enough. Oh, she was innocence defined. Grabbing her hands, he held them at her sides as he leaned in, kissing her softly. Slowly, he slid his lips to the side until he found her ear.

"I can feel your pulse," He whispered. His breath warm against her neck and it spread itself down her body, to finally settle low in her belly. "Your skin is trembling. I can feel it, can you?"

"I…yes...oh." She answered breathlessly and her heart shuddered up against her chest as he sucked her frantic pulse into his mouth. She felt like liquid, her limbs heavy and but solid and she sank boneless back against the sofa, eyes closing, her head rolling to the side.

Feeling her go lax beneath his lips, he then moved lower and licked his way along the top of her dress. Her skin was sweet and salty all at once, like the rim of a shot of tequila. He nipped at the soft swell of exposed skin and heard her breath catch, her hands straining against his. Her dress was silky and cool, and he nuzzled his way lower and lower. Her legs fell helplessly open and he kissed the dimples of her knees. Looking up, he met her dazed gaze in question. She answered by opening her legs farther and her dress slid all the way up to expose her slim hips. She was wearing white underneath, it illuminated the pale skin of her thighs like the glow of the moon. She smelled of jasmine and morning dew, sweet and fresh. He was entranced and wrote her name up the inside of her thigh, with each stroke he felt her body tremble in response.

"Oh…please." She begged, not knowing what she was begging for. Her body was on fire, a slow burn of pleasure and his mouth seemed to be its epicenter. "Please…"

Unable to help himself, he gave in to her request and licked up along the edge of white. He could taste her, it was nearly his undoing, and she bucked her hips, thighs closing around him with a cry of surprise. He released her hands to hold her knees still, dipping his head to kiss her and felt her throb, firm and real against his lips. He sucked her up, pulsing against his swirling tongue, and felt her desire spread through the fabric of her underwear, sweet and wet against his mouth, before she cried out and yanked his head back by his hair.

They stared at one another, both breathless, eyes heavy and full emotion. It was indescribable. The sight of her shocked face sent Mamoru reeling back to reality. Sitting back, he told her, "That's enough for now."

She nodded, wobbling her way up to her feet. She blushed hard and, embarrassed by the way her body had responded, pulled her dress down. Her thighs were throbbing, a sweet long pain deep inside that she never felt before. Her body felt so full and yet so empty at the same time. Quickly, she somehow managed to make it to the door, and turning back to him, she bowed her head in farewell.

"Arigato."

And then she was gone with Mamoru still left kneeling on the floor.


	3. Chapter 3: Touch

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the great reviews. It is really appreciated! And I know some of you feel that Usagi's not really getting lessons, such as how to kiss, etc. But I feel, at least, experience is the best teacher. And through these little interludes with Mamoru, she learns just as well, or even better. Haha, I guess you can say it's almost a Montessori approach to sex? Anyways, again, thanks so much for the reviews! Keep reading, and reviewing! Much love. PrincessJade.

**Insatiable**

Chapter Three: Touch

_Touch, lying on the floor_

_Wishing this could last_

_But knowing that it can't_

_And soon you will leave_

_And I will be on the floor_

…

_You gather around your friends_

_The connection that you feel when the night has not yet died_

_You are new with a promise of love_

_You will probably never find_

_And touch that you can really feel_

_The brokenness inside as hope and less collide_

_Now nothing is real_

…

_And there is nothing more I want than just one night_

_That's free of doubt and sadness_

_One night that I can really feel_

_Bright Eyes—Touch_

Tuxedo Kamen leapt onto his balcony just in time to hear a knock at his door. Who could be knocking at this hour? Quickly transforming back to normal, he made his way inside, catching a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked a little winded, even as Mamoru, and couldn't help but worry about the ever increasing strength of the youma. He had had to save Sailor Moon more than once tonight, something that also concerned him. Klutzy Sailor Moon, he scowled, she really needed to pay more attention. Even still, perhaps he had been a little harsh with her tonight, thinking back to the way her eyes had welled up at his reprimands. She hadn't cried, but had looked damn near close to. The knocking persisted, even louder, and it broke his thoughts. Crossing the room, he called out, slightly annoyed, "Coming!"

Opening the door, he found his unexpected visitor to look just as surprised as he felt, as if she had just realized where she really was.

"Odango Atama, what are you doing here? It's one in the morning."

"I…I couldn't sleep." She answered simply, shrugging her shoulders. Her eyes were full with restless energy and she stepped inside, not waiting for an invitation. "I want another lesson."

"Now? Odango, it's late. I'm really beat." Mamoru protested even as he closed the door behind him. "What brought this on…so suddenly? I haven't seen you in a week. I thought you had…changed your mind."

"No. Well…" She frowned, looking quite lost for a moment, before determination set in, her jaw firm. She paced his living room, unsure of how to exactly explain her situation. How could she tell him that she felt that time was running out? How she needed to learn how to seduce Tuxedo Kamen before her klutziness ruined it forever? How she really needed Mamoru's help, no matter how intimidated he made her feel, because she had no one else to turn to? She realized she needed to grow up and grow up fast. She couldn't be crybaby Usagi forever. And she couldn't always be ditzy Sailor Moon, especially if she wanted to get Tuxedo Kamen. And god, she really wanted him. Knowing she couldn't really tell Mamoru all of this, even cryptically, she finally settled with, "I've just been really busy this week." Then, deciding to be more honest, confessed, "I admit, I was a bit overwhelmed. I needed some time to process…things. But…"

"But?" He prodded, after she fell silent for a few moments, clearly lost in her thoughts.

"But," she continued, lifting her eyes to meet his. Her gaze was strong; its strength surprised him and she stepped forward. "I'm ready now."

"At one in the morning?" He asked skeptically, unable to help himself. No matter how intriguing it was to teach Usagi the delight of carnal pleasures, Mamoru had to confess that he was actually exhausted. "Couldn't this wait until tomorrow?"

"It could." Usagi agreed, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed that she had really knocked on Mamoru's door at one in the morning. But her anxiety over lost time, remembering Tuxedo Kamen's harsh words from earlier, was greater than her embarrassment and it gave her the strength to grab a hold of Mamoru's forearms. "But…what if I promise it'll be short?"

His eyes narrowed.

"What exactly will be short, Odango?"

She smiled secretly, feeling that she was going to get her way, "Why our lesson! Don't be silly Mamoru." She giggled, reeling him in. She pulled him toward the sofa. "What if I just practice?" Her mouth slid into a slight pout, eyes wicked.

Wasn't she supposed to be the innocent here? Mamoru wondered. And he really could have sworn, as she led him to the couch, that she just swayed her hips a little too much for it to be just her normal stride. He sat down and looked up at her curiously. "What are you going to practice?"

"My seduction," she answered, a bit tartly.

"Oh, yes…this infamous seduction of yours for this infamous guy, right?" Mamoru stretched out, straightening his long legs as she came to stand between them. "What is he like, anyway?"

Her smile was quick and a real look of admiration crossed her features.

"He's tall, mysterious, and very mature. Hm, strong and handsome and graceful too. He's amazing, really. And he always seems to show up when I need him to." Usagi sighed, leaning over Mamoru. It was actually kind of nice being able to confide in Mamoru about this, she thought, because she certainly couldn't with Luna, much less the rest of the scouts.

"I know, I know," she caught his look, "he's my complete opposite. Kind of like you in a way..." She said suddenly. Then looked at him thoughtfully and couldn't help but laugh at the picture of Mamoru soaring through the air like Tuxedo Kamen to rescue her. What a funny thought! She didn't think Mamoru could ever be as suave as her Tuxedo Kamen. Not wanting Mamoru to get the wrong idea, she added, "But much, much better."

Mamoru scowled and noticing this, she tried to make amends by slipping onto his lap, a sheepish look in her eyes. He was a man after all, Usagi wasn't completely stupid, and knew that even the cool Mamoru had an ego. So instead she changed the subject. "I don't know how to do this, Mamoru. What should I do? How do I turn on an older guy?"

He studied her carefully and although he was sure she was being sincere, he couldn't help but feel that she was teasing him all the same. Not wanting to tell her that her innocence was tempting enough, he traced the hollows of her collarbone with his fingers and murmured, "Kissing is always a good start, Odango."

"I thought I told you not to call me that?" She admonished, leaning forward to brush her lips against his lightly. He responded back, just as light, and Usagi thought about deepening the kiss, but then decided against it. Instead she pulled back, so they were nose to nose, and watched him carefully. "What if I don't want to kiss you? Calling me Odango is not very nice, Mamoru."

Then her hands, small and soft, were flitting across his face. Gently, she traced the sharp line of his jaw, ran the pad of her thumb across the bottom of his mouth. He nipped at it, teasingly, eyes dark and heavy. Still she watched him, her hands now moving to his shoulders, sliding underneath the collar of his black shirt. He was wonderfully solid she realized and she shifted with a roll of her hips, so she could unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. Once revealed, she noticed his torso was long and lean, muscles taut like a panther's. She made a small noise of appreciation and then with second roll of her hips, they were once again nose to nose.

"Like what you see?" He asked, hands moving down her sides to rest on her hips.

"I'm not complaining." She answered noncommittally, tiny hands spreading themselves across the expanse of his skin. Testing, she brushed a knuckle across his nipple, watched how his lips parted slightly. But wasn't satisfied. Her answering pinch was curious, but firm, and she was more than satisfied with his grunt of surprise and rode the wave of his hips with her own, not willing to surrender.

"Kiss me." He demanded, fingers digging into her. He could feel the sharpness of her hipbones, they pierced his palms.

"Nu uh!" She giggled, hands moving over him like water. This power was all new, something she couldn't have comprehended before tonight. It was exciting, addictive and, even if it was Mamoru, she was enthralled with it. "Not until you're sorry."

"But I'm not sorry, I like calling you Odango…Odango." He smirked, pulling her closer, lips searching for hers. But she was quick, evading him, and he felt the warm rush of her breath against his ear.

"Not going to kiss you." She sing-songed, eyes twinkling.

"No?" He challenged; eyes dark and dangerous. "You forget who's supposed to be teaching who."

"Oh, but I am still learning." She smiled, liking the banter. It was similar to their normal banter, perhaps more intimate, but certainly no less entertaining. It put her at ease. She leaned in closer, breath hot and inviting. "I'm only teaching you how to be more patient, Mamoru." She ended her comment with a quick nip at his bottom lip.

He moved quickly then, catching her by surprise. With one hand he pulled her head back by her hair, forcing her to arch into him as his other held her hips down against his. And then he began to move.

She immediately knew it wasn't like before. She was no longer riding above his movements. Instead, she was sinking and quickly, pressed intimately against him. She gasped, feeling the length of him, not scared, but shocked at instantaneous pang of desire that ran through her core.

"Oh, oh, mm." She babbled incoherently, grinding back into him.

The sight of her was going to kill him. Her body was all silver in the moonlight, slender and supple with her hair flowing around them. He still held her head back, throat exposed, pulse jumping. She was an exquisite creature, a moonlit nymph, a fair-skinned siren. He moved down, studying the sharp angles of her shoulders to the sweet hollows of collarbone in contrast with the soft swells of flesh, peaking out from beneath her tank top.

"Kiss me." He demanded again, only this time it came out more as a plea as his movements stilled and he released her hair. And once again, they were face to face, noses bumping. They could both feel their frenzy of desire slowly ebb into something more malleable, something full of promise. She kissed him then and, lips melting into his, felt him sigh into the kiss, mouth open and vulnerable.

Yes, kissing Mamoru was definitely not the most horrible thing in the world thought Usagi as he shifted the angle, hands coming up to cup her face. He stroked his thumbs against the corners of her mouth and whispered her name, easing her back, even as his body protested.

"You need to go to sleep. It's almost two in the morning. You have school tomorrow." Mamoru told her, hands moving from her face to her shoulders to unconsciously push back her hair. He saw her pout and wondered what she was thinking—what she was feeling. "Come tomorrow, yeah?"

"All right, Mamoru-san." And then she hugged him, body warm against his, and gazed out at the Tokyo skyline, wondering where Tuxedo Kamen was and if he had somebody to hold on to. She was suddenly very sad and bidding Mamoru farewell, she released him.

Her absence filled him with unease.


	4. Chapter 4: Collision, and then the Fall

I sincerely would like to thank you all for the great reviews. They really make my day. Please keep them up, they are appreciated more than you know. So enjoy the new chapter and much love, PrincessJade.

**Insatiable**

Chapter Four: Collision— and Then the Fall

_My hands are two travelers_

_They've crossed oceans and lands_

_Yet they are too small on the continent of your skin_

_Wandering, wandering I could spend my life_

_Traveling the length of your body each night_

_Oh, oh Jupiter_

_Oh, oh be still my little heart_

_Take these stars from my crown_

_Let the years fall down_

_Lay me out in the firelight_

_Let my skin feel the night_

_Fasten me to your side_

_And say it will be soon_

_You make me so crazy, baby_

_I could swallow the moon_

_Jewel- Jupiter_

When her knock went unanswered, she couldn't help the natural feeling of dread that quickly swept through her. She bit her lip, clearly anxious. Had Mamoru forgotten? Was he finally coming to his senses? Did he not want to teach her anymore?

Deciding to wait five minutes, which was passed with much agony and self-doubt, she then tried the door and was relieved to find it unlocked. Taking a nervous breath, she pushed it quietly open and let herself in. Mamoru's apartment was cool and silent except for the hypnotic whirl of a ceiling fan, a soothing sound. She smelt the lingering scent of roses, sweet and heavy, and crept into the living room like a thief in the night, only to be surprised by the sight before her—Mamoru was flung across the sofa, fast asleep.

In slumber he looked almost like a child, his angled face unguarded. And with his body stretched out, all long bones and sinew, Usagi couldn't help but admire his form. And without thinking, she walked closer and shrugged out of her pink jacket. Underneath she wore a purple shirt, thin and worn-in in all the right places. With jeans slung low on her hips, she straddled his slumbering body and brushed his dark bangs aside.

"Mamoru."

"Mmm?" He shifted, now flat on his back. Leaning forward, she rested her hands on his chest, fingers star-fishing across sleep-warmed skin.

"Mamoruuu," she called again. "Mamoru, wake up."

She watched him attentively, a bemused look on her face. Was that drool that she saw at the corner of his mouth?

"Mamoru!" She laughed, pinching him on the arm.

He woke up this time—and quickly. He sat up in bewilderment and unknowingly collided, head first, into the unsuspecting girl on top of him. Simultaneously, they both recoiled in pain.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, falling back onto the sofa, covering his face with both hands in defense.

"Ow! Watch it!" Was her equally pained response.

Looking up, Mamoru saw a swimming vision of gold and pale limbs and, judging by the throbbing pain in his head, knew she was most definitely real—which only meant one thing.

"Odango Atama! Where did you come from?"

"School, jerk-face." She muttered, managing somehow to sound peeved and wounded all at the same time. "It's four-thirty."

"Oh…I must of fell asleep." He concluded lamely, eyes sheepish.

"As if that wasn't obvious." Voice dripping with sarcasm, her eyes widened comically as she felt a lump beginning on her forehead. "Mamoru! I'm gonna bruise!"

He winced at her sharp whine, and wondered how he had almost forgotten he was still dealing with a fourteen-year-old-Usagi.

She eyed him with a death glare, which slowly turned smug at sight of a matching lump beginning to rise on his forehead. "Why Mamoru! You're going to have a nice bruise as well!"

Irritated, he pushed her off with a grumble.

"I guess I should get us some ice."

…

"Aren't we a sorry pair?" She asked companionably, fifteen minutes later, shoulders bumping.

"That we are." He mused, constantly amazed at the situation. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined he'd be sprawled out on his living room floor, shoulder to shoulder, with Usagi—both clutching ice packs to their temples.

Grabbing an ice cube from the bowl between them, she popped it into her mouth thoughtfully and sucked hard. "I came here for pleasure, and instead I get pain and a huge lump as a souvenir. I suppose I can see the irony."

"For the pleasure, huh?" Mamoru grinned wolfishly, as Usagi realized her slip of tongue. She blushed and childishly spat the ice cube at his head, which missed and bounced harmlessly across the carpet. He retaliated with a soaring ice cube of his own, which hit its mark dead on.

Mamoru was clearly the better shot.

She sulked and rubbed her nose, a pretty pout across her mouth.

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

"I suppose I do." His voice was seemingly nonchalant, but something shifted behind the blue of his gaze, dark and mysterious. Rolling to the side, he picked up her ice pack and dropped it in the bowl, inspecting her face. "The lump is going down. It should be gone by tomorrow morning."

"I hope so…" She eyed him and reached down, dropping another piece of ice into her mouth.

He smiled at her wariness, feeling protective. His murmur was all softness, no edge.

"C'mere. I'll make you feel better—promise." He moved the bowl of ice aside in invitation.

She couldn't help but be slightly charmed. She ignored the part of her that said she wasn't here to be charmed, and sidled closer. She allowed him to enfold her, wrapped up in his arms he was cinnamon and spice—and certainly everything nice. He tilted her head up, sighing into his mouth, lips cool against hers. With her tongue, she pushed the melting ice past her lips and then through his. He swallowed it, tongue coming out to tease hers and she felt as if he was swallowing her soul.

"Mmm…touch me." She encouraged and he heedlessly obeyed, cupping one breast with a lazy hand. He traced the underside of flesh with deft fingers, felt her answering arousal against his palm.

"No bra?" He gasped, bowing down, mouth closing over a nipple to tease it through the thin material of her shirt. It greeted him sweetly, taut and ready. "I've turned you into a minx."

She laughed, "I've always been a minx. I just never allowed myself to show it."

He groaned, and then she was pulling and pushing and tugging at him from all sides; lips buried in his hair, hands down his spine. And somewhere, between all of that, she had managed to take off her shirt and her pert breasts, tiny but full, arched up to meet his awaiting mouth.

"You're trying to kill me." He moaned against her skin, worshipping her with his tongue. The taste of her flesh was salty sweet, and it undid the last seam of his restraint. He fell open, completely consumed. In a frenzy, he nipped, and pulled, and sucked in time with her sighs, her cries, her sweet pleas for more.

What a perfect woman.

What a good, good girl.

And if she had not had forced his hands full of her, all bewitching curves and alluring dips of bone, he might have then felt his heart take that first and very dangerous stumble, right up against his throat.

Oh, but he couldn't, he didn't. It was too late and there wasn't the room. He was too oblivious, too crazy, and too full of her to even see straight.

She was really going to kill him. But what an amazing way to die, buried deep in the curve of her belly, legs wrapped around his waist.

"Take them off, get them off," She demanded, her mouth open and gasping for air. "Now, now, hurry, please, now!"

And he felt like a sixteen-year-old boy again, fumbling with buttons and zippers and wiggling hips. But then she was free and completely exposed—her jeans and the pink scrap of lace discarded in a heap on the floor. She spread her thighs beneath his hands, sex swollen and straining toward his mouth. Her eyes were unfocused, delirious with desire, and she cried out, hips bucking up when he nipped at the bud of her arousal. She went liquid beneath him, her body trembling against his mouth.

"Oh my god." She choked out, when he swirled his tongue around her clit, sucking her up against the roof of his mouth, and she thought she might just suffocate from the pleasure of it all. "Oh…Oh! I need…I need…"

He knew what she needed, knew what was building, and knew the glorious fall she was about to take. And more than anything he wanted to give it to her; give her everything she asked for and then more.

"Mmm…I want…I can't…I…"She was babbling, hips rocking, nails digging into his back, and then his fingers were there. Oh, yes, sliding into her, stretching her, filling her, until she was tight and throbbing and everything was spiraling madly out of control.

"Oh…don't stop. Don't you dare stop!" She begged, voice lush and in her throat. Her hair had come undone.

He curved the tips of his fingers, hitting just the right spot, and stroked her higher and higher, to the point of breaking.

"You're fucking amazing." He told her fiercely, unable to stop himself, and holding her gaze he felt her thighs spasm, insides clenching around his fingers as she came with a shocked cry. He let her ride out the wave of her orgasm, knowing it was her first, and stroked her gently, fingers slick with her release, until she was boneless and heavy limbed, a blissed-out smile on her face.

"You okay?" He was suddenly very nervous.

"Mmmhmm." She looked up at him, blue eyes unsteady, but impossibly deep. She looked utterly satisfied. "Kiss me."

She was still smiling as she tugged him toward her mouth, when something moved deep inside of him, blossoming into something he couldn't name. But before he could melt against her sated body, a shrill beeping exploded from the tangled heap of her clothes.

"Shit!" She scrambled to her feet, in all her nude glory, to flip open the offending object. Her hair enveloped her, blocking his view. "Oh, no." She groaned, then looked at him apologetically over her shoulder. "I have to go."

"Now? Really? Are you sure?" He asked, reaching for her. But she moved quickly away, out of reach, and had already thrown her clothes back on. She nimbly twisted her hair back up into its odangos and, slipping on her flats, he nearly missed her in her mad rush out the door.

"Usagi, wait!" He ran after her, caught her by the wrist. She was halfway to the elevator. "You'll be back?"

"Oh, yes…yes, of course." She frowned, understanding for the first time that she may have hurt his feelings. Knowing, she couldn't explain, she simply squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I'm sorry. This is really important. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Then she stepped onto the elevator, doors closing around her tiny face, and left Mamoru alone in the hall. He stood there for a few moments before he felt his stomach sink sharply, coming to a sudden and very overwhelming realization.

Now when exactly did he fall in love with the Odango Atama?


	5. Chapter 5: Break Me

To my darling readers:

Thank you for your sweet reviews for chapter four, they are very encouraging; especially those who have taken the time to give me more than "I like it- please continue" (although those are just as appreciated!).

In particular, I would like to extend more thanks and appreciation to: Caty, for seeing the romance in the sex; Serena530, for letting me expand her mind wink and I promise that all will be revealed, for there can never be love without truth; LightningRose, for not allowing age differences and pesky laws to get in the way of enjoying the story; BLiberalQuestionAuthority, for being inspired, and if you ever write that story, I will be the first one to read it; Shadow's Moon Hime, for always making me smile (!!!) and that once upon a time I had considered going to school for writing, but instead I chose art; and lastly to my other handful of readers who have there from the beginning, your continuous support of this story is priceless.

Much Love,

PrincessJade

PS: Yes, I know it's short. But I promise there will be more—and soon. ;)

**Insatiable**

Chapter Five: Break Me

_The body breaks_

_And the body is fine_

_I'm open to yours_

_And I'm open to mine_

_The body aches_

_And that ache takes its time_

_But you'll get over yours_

_And I'll get over mine_

_And the sun will shine_

_And the moon will rise up_

_The body calls_

_Yes, the body, it calls out_

_It whispers at first_

_But it ends with a shout_

_The body burns_

_Yeah, the body burns strong_

_Until mine is with yours_

_Then mine will burn on_

_My flesh sings out_

_It sings, "come put me out"_

_The body sways_

_Like the wind on a swing_

_A bridge through a hoop_

_Or a lake through a ring_

_The body stays_

_And then the body moves on_

_And I'd really rather not dwell on_

_When yours will be gone_

_But within the dark_

_There is a shine_

_One tiny spark_

_That's yours and mine_

_Xiu Xiu- The Body Breaks_

He was going insane.

Her absence was like an eternal paper-cut, it stung and irritated. She hadn't returned, even though she had promised. It had been three long days since he'd seen her, touched her, had her sweetness across his tongue. Three long days of utter misery. Not like he was counting, he reminded himself, knowing it was all a lie.

Stupid girl, look what she did to him! He thought with a scowl, taking a drag of a cigarette—his newly acquired habit as of twelve hours ago.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Sometimes, he still couldn't believe that he was in love with the Usagi—no, he smiled, unable to help the love-struck look, Usako.

His darling Usako, all golden beauty and innocence and raw sex appeal. Well, she wasn't really his, but he didn't like to dwell too much on that thought. Even though she felt like his, especially how her body yielded beneath his hands, his mouth, his tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world. And damnit, shouldn't he feel some sort of proprietary claim over her? To her body? To her sweet, sweet mouth? Except that she wasn't his and never would be—her love belonged to someone else.

The whole thing was ridiculous.

He really should have known better than to agree to her stupid proposition. Should have known it'd be his demise.

Even Sailor Moon did little to soothe his agitated heart.

No, she had only made it worse with her sweet words and unabashed flirtations. And the temptation that had filled him, to give into her, to kiss her senseless, had only ended with an overwhelming sense of guilt. And the hurt look that she had given him at being rejected—well, like he'd said—only made it worse. Much, much, worse.

"Mamoru!"

Startled, he spun around, cigarette in hand, to find Usagi in the doorway, swaying towards him. She slid open the screen door and stumbled into him, dressed in a slinky black dress and heels. The moon illuminated her face, all glowing skin and sparkling eyes.

"Since when do you smoke?" She looked up, puzzled, and pressed a hand against his chest. "You shouldn't smoke. It's bad for you." Then she giggled, plucked the burning cigarette from his hand and took a drag before flicking it over the rail. "Oh, look at you! You're spinning!"

"And you're drunk!" He exclaimed, arms coming around to steady her. "You're fourteen!"

She snorted, and stabbed him with little fingers. "So? It's only a stupid number. I don't feel fourteen and besides, you didn't really seem to mind before." She wiggled against him, a sly smile on her lips. "I want your tongue on me later, naughty Mamoru. But first…first…show me what you like."

"Usagi…you're drunk." He stilled her fingers at the top of his pants, hating that he cared at all. "Why are you drunk?"

"Why aren't you?" She retorted childishly and somehow managed to press herself against his length. Her eyes gleamed in victory at finding him hard. She cooed, teasingly. "Oh, come on Mamo-chan. Let me please you."

"No. No. Not like this." Fuck, he really hated himself. Even as his heart had leapt at the careless term of endearment and his cock at her nearness, he untangled her from his body and pushed her gently back. "You should go home. How much have you had to drink?"

"I don't know." She glared at him and stomped, as best as she could in her current condition, away him. "Two, three, maybe five. Why do you even care?"

Her voice was angry, but she looked as if she was about to cry.

"I…don't know." Why was she so frustrating? Why was he so in love? Oh, shit, no, please don't cry! "Look I just know that you're drunk, ridiculously drunk actually. And what you really need is sleep. Let me help you. I'll take you home."

"Fuck you. I don't need your help. I'm perfectly capable of walking home myself." She shoved the screen open confidently, but tripped into the couch on her way. Slightly mortified, she finally managed to make it to the door and wrenched it open. Then she turned, piercing him with liquid eyes. "I hate you both! Am I really that dumb? I know you must think that I'm just some ditzy kid, don't you? Don't you?! Well I'm not! And he...he..."

"Usagi..." He didn't know what to say, only knew that the sight of her, close to tears, nearly broke his heart. "I don't think—"

But her face had suddenly blanched, turning green.

"Mamoru," She whispered, with an expression that was all helplessness now, no anger. "I think I'm going to be sick."


	6. Chapter 6: An Attempt to Tip the Scales

Author's Note:

Thank you for all the reviews. And I know that I already mentioned this in "Glimpse" but I will just reiterate for a brief moment. I know that some of you disagreed with Usagi drinking and Mamoru smoking, however I'm not going to apologize. My Usagi and Mamoru are not always perfect, nor do I want them to be. They are real and in character inside my work. And I know some of you want explanations, however, I like to keep my writing vague—to a certain degree. Isn't that the fun of reading? Envisioning it in your mind and filling in the gaps? To me, that's the beauty of fiction, and I write, first and foremost, to please myself.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Again, enjoy and please review! I do adore them so!

Much love,

PrincessJade

**Insatiable**

Chapter Six: An Attempt to Tip the Scales

_But when she gave you more to find_

_You let her think she'd lost her mind_

_And that's all on you_

_Feeling helpless if she asked for help_

_Or scared you'd have to change yourself_

_And you can't deny this room will keep you warm_

_You can look out of your window at the storm_

_But you watch the phone and hope it rings_

_You'll take her any way she sings,_

_Or how she calls, the beauty of the rain_

_Is how it falls, how it falls, how it falls_

Dar Williams- The Beauty of the Rain

The water was blissfully hot against her skin, of which Usagi was grateful, as Mamoru settled her against the tiled wall of his shower. He sat down beside her, hands gentle, pushing her wet bangs out of her eyes. She watched his thorough movements, benignly attentive, despite their near nudity, and knew he'd make a good doctor one day.

"This will make you feel better," he assured, allowing her to lean against him. She burrowed closer, legs thrown over his, as the spray continued to beat down on them both—and Mamoru was ashamed by how easily his heart skipped a beat at the unconscious show of intimacy. "I don't think you'll get sick again, but if you do, it's okay. Just let me know. I'll hold your hair."

"Thank you," she said, still a bit drunk, still a bit dazed, and certainly still a bit queasy. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. I didn't mean to ruin your night."

"No, don't worry about it. I don't…" He frowned and, hands sliding down her side to rest on the delicate curve of her hip, admitted sheepishly," I don't mind taking care of you."

Her gaze flew immediately to his face, eyes full of surprise and wonder, but before she had a chance to speak he continued on, tone stern.

"You shouldn't be drinking. Really, Usagi, you're too young to get mixed up in all that. What were you thinking?"

She furrowed her brow and scrunched up her round little face, wondering if she really could explain to Mamoru what she had been thinking. Did she herself even know what she had really been thinking? Still, he was looking at her so intently, lashes an inky fringe around deep sapphire pools, that she felt she owed him her best attempt at honesty.

"I don't know," she sighed and, unable to help the pout that blossomed on her mouth, untangled herself from his body. "It's hard to explain."

He watched her silently, still propped against the wall, as she stretched out fully underneath the spray. She made a beautiful vision—hair a poetic swirl of gold against her flesh and the speckled greens of the shower floor. Her body, milky white in the shower light, was in high contrast against the black of her underwear. She was all sharp angles and soft curves, precariously balanced between child and woman. She made him think of those Pre Raphaelites and all their painted goddesses, untouchably wrapped in mysticism and tragedy.

Oh, how he loved her, he realized, even like this, sprawled out in adolescent misery and sadness.

"You don't have to tell me."

But his kindness finally broke down her defenses. And it surprised her at how easy the words seemed to bubble up from the depths of her heart. "I feel so alone sometimes."

"So do I."

"I guess we all do." She smiled sadly, finding the courage to look up at him. "But lately, I've found myself feeling…different…from my friends, from my family, from…him. And I'm trying, really I am, to be all that they expect. I want to, you know, because I love them. But it's hard. I feel so inadequate all the time. I'm never smart enough or old enough or graceful enough or beautiful—"

"Nonsense, you are full of beauty—inside and out. One of the most beautiful people I know."

His words caused a soft blush to rise across her cheeks, though she tried to cover it with a careless laugh.

"You don't have to say that to be nice."

He wanted to protest, but she was opening up to him in such a way he never expected that he feared another interruption would stop it all. So instead, choosing his words carefully, he encouraged her to continue.

"So you thought drinking would make everything better?"

"No, I know it never makes anything better. I didn't go out planning on getting drunk. It just happened. Molly invited me over to her house because her older brother was throwing a party. So we got all dressed up, wanting to look older, in hopes we'd blend in with the rest of the crowd, and it did work for a little while. Eventually a few guys offered us drinks, which we had to accept so as not to blow our cover."

"Of course you did," he graciously agreed, smiling at her simplified reasoning.

She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "I guess I had a bit too many, but by the time I realized I was drunk, Molly's brother had discovered us and made us go upstairs. I was going to just sleepover, like I had already told my mom, but I was feeling like…like…"

"Like a grown-up," he finished for her, remembering how seductively she had swayed and sparkled in the moonlight.

"Yes, like a grown-up. And then I thought maybe I could find Tu—er—ner and finally seduce him."

"Turner? That's his name?" Mamoru asked and, while thinking it was a loser's name and that she deserved better, wondered why she had gone all doe-eyed at the subject.

"Yes, Turner's his name. Why?" She tried to sound careless, but feared it came out more defensive if anything.

"Nothing, just clarifying," he soothed and saw her relax slightly. "So why didn't you seduce him?"

Now she blushed, full out, and rolled onto her back, covering her eyes against the water. She was being adorable again, which he knew could mean only one thing—she was feeling better.

"I don't know where he lives."

"Ah, I see the problem," he couldn't help but tease.

"Shut it," she muttered, glaring slightly. "So after wandering aimlessly for a bit, I decided to come to you. I was hoping that I could have seduced you into teaching me how to…well, how to please you."

"Please me?" Surprised, he watched her nervously as she sat up, hair clinging to her curves. He was suddenly very aware that she was topless, dusky nipples peaking through wet strands of gold. "You really want to?"

Usagi nodded, crawling toward him. The queasiness was gone, leaving only looseness in her limbs, a feeling she kind of liked. She tugged at the wet material of his boxers, smiling. "Won't you take these off?"

He complied, embarrassed that he was half hard already, but then she grasped him, firmly in one small hand, and he nearly forgot his name.

"You're so smooth." She marveled, gave him an experimental stroke and saw his mouth part in pleasure. She grinned and stroked him some more. "Am I doing this right?"

"Yes." He hissed through clenched teeth. She felt him throb against her palm and knew he wasn't lying. Entranced, she continued her stroking, varying the speed and rhythm, and ran the thumb of her other hand across the head. He bucked his hips in response, hands gripping her thighs. "Don't stop."

"I won't." She promised, looking into his eyes. She held his gaze, never stopping, and when he came moments later, pulsing wildly in time with her movements, she was delighted at how he bit his lip, a strangled moan escaping. She stilled her hand and smiled at the sight of a dazed Mamoru, feeling a supreme sense of feminine accomplishment. "Did I do that okay?"

He smiled, watched her wash his come off his stomach like a real lover. "Like a pro."

She giggled at that and then took his hand in hers, unexpectedly serious. "Thank you for taking care of me, Mamo-chan. Is it okay to call you that?"

"Call me anything you want." He told her. Rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand, he noticed her shiver. Concerned, he turned the shower off. "Come on, let's dry you off."

She nodded and stood up after him, deciding it best not to tell him she wasn't cold at all.

…

After he threw her clothes in the dryer and made them both a cup of tea, he joined her in his bedroom. She was glowing in the lamplight, sitting cross-legged on his bed, dressed in one of his t-shirts, hair curling down her back and across his sheets. She smiled sweetly at him, dimples showing, and took the offered cup.

"Mm…" She sniffed the cup with a delighted sigh. "White tea is my favorite. How'd you know?"

"I didn't. It's mine as well."

"Oh." She shifted, made room for him to sit across from her. "You don't mind if I stay here tonight, do you?"

"I was hoping you would. You won't get in trouble?"

"No, my mom thinks I'm at Molly's."

"And Molly?"

"Told her I didn't feel well and that I was going to go home."

"Not that you were planning on seducing Turner?" He smirked.

"No, she doesn't know about him." She took a slow sip of tea and shrugged a boney shoulder. "Actually, you are the only who knows about my planned seduction."

"Interesting that even the girls don't know. He must be something," he murmured, putting his cup aside to finger her hair. It was soft and still slightly damp from the shower. "When's the last time you cut your hair?"

"Oh, I get it trimmed all the time. Split ends are gross." She laughed, thoughtful. "I guess the last time I had a real hair cut was when I was six."

"That's impressive. Think you'll ever cut it?"

"Maybe once I'm older. Why?"

He smiled, face soft, and combed his fingers through the wealth of it all. "No reason. I think you should keep it long. It suits you, with or without the odangos."

"Really?" She brightened, set her cup alongside his. "I thought you hated my hairstyle."

"No, it's just so easy to tease you." He laughed at her narrowed eyes. "See! You are so easily riled!"

"Am not." She huffed, even though she knew he had a point.

"Don't pout." He cupped her face, leaning in for a kiss. It was gentle and sweet, lips feather-soft for the briefest moment against her own. He nudged her nose, nipped the tip between his teeth. "You must be tired. Come lay with me. Let me hold you."

She was shocked to discover that his proposal was exactly what she wanted to hear. And she couldn't help but let him draw her down and into his embrace, curling against his chest. They fit together nicely, with his chin pressed into her hair and her right leg over his.

"Should we turn the lamp off?" she asked him, stifling a yawn.

"S'okay. Leave it on. I just want to hold you." He stroked her back with a lazy hand, while his other massaged her scalp. "It's been a long time since I've just held someone."

"Well this is the first time I've ever been held."

He pulled her tighter, as her breathing deepened into sleep, and kissed the top of her head.

"I know I'm your first for many things, Usako. But you're a first for me as well."


	7. Chapter 7: A Rising Culmination

Author's Note:

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. They have definitely lifted my spirits during this last week of hell. They are, in fact, so wonderful that I'm now sitting here typing up this chapter instead of doing the endless other things I should be doing right now. Ah, oh well.

I have two things to mention, since this is nearing to its close. One is that I know some of you are wondering if Usagi and Mamoru will discover their past identities, but as the story is laid out in my head at the moment, they will not. However, that got me thinking about how their physical relationship would impact other events that occur in the canon and I'm seriously considering turning Insatiable into the first part of a series of stories, which will all be housed here and would branch off from Insatiable, while still loosely remaining true to the main arcs in the storyline. Do you think that is something you would be interested in reading?

And secondly, a few of you had expressed an interest in talking with me, which I am completely open to. You can send me a pm through this site or if you have aim, my sn is snickers338. Anyways, don't be shy, I'd be glad to talk with you all.

So please read and enjoy and review! I love reviews. And judging by the number of alerts and favorites I have for this particular story, I have many who don't review at all. So please, if you are one of those, one review would be just lovely and so appreciated. Tell me what you love, hate, would change, etc. I'm very open to criticism as long as it's constructive. Oh wow, I see I've gotten a little lengthy—my apologies.

Much love,

PrincessJade

PS: This is not the last chapter, as some of you have thought. Don't worry. I do like happy endings, just not those overly sappy ones. Hehe.

**Insatiable**

**Chapter Seven: A Rising Culmination**

_Try as he might, he's unable to speak_

_He grabs her by the hair, he strokes her on the cheek_

_The bed is unmade, like everything is_

_Dark little heaven at the top of the stairs_

_Take me like that, ruin it all_

_Then build it again by the light in the hall_

_He drops to his knees, says please my love, please_

_I'll kill who you hate, take off that dress, you won't freeze_

_One more night, that was a good one_

_One more night, I dreamed it was a good one_

_One more, one more night, that was a good one_

_One more night, the end should be a good one_

_A good one_

_He starts with her back cause that's what he sees_

_When she's breaking his heart, she still fucks like a tease_

_Release to the sky, look him straight in the eye_

_And tell him that now, that you wish he would die_

_You'll never touch him again, so get what you can_

_Leaving him empty just because he's a man_

_So good when it ends, they'll never be friends_

_One more night, that's all they can spend_

_One more night, that was a good one_

_One more night, I dreamed it was a good one_

_One more, one more night, that was a good one_

_One more night, the end should be a good one_

_A good one_

_The Stars—One More Night_

When Usagi opened her eyes, she was first disconcerted by the bright morning light which slanted itself through glimmering panes of glass to fall across an unfamiliar gray carpet. She rose sleepily, propping herself on a forearm, to the sight of a bustling Tokyo below. Oh, no! School! She had thought in alarm, coming fully awake, before remembering that it was Saturday and that she didn't have school and that she had gotten drunk at Molly's and then she had gotten sick and Mamoru—Oh, Mamoru! Turning quickly, the sight of his slumbering figure, sprawled beside her, quickly brought the previous night's events into sharp focus.

Her first reaction, recalling how she had sloppily thrown herself at him, was a shameful blush of embarrassment, but slowly, as gentle words and caring touches began to surface, it gave way to a new sensation, warm and fuzzy, that extended all the way down to her toes. Could she possibly be feeling affection for Mamoru? Dare it be more than the friendly affection that had just recently grown between them since she had started coming here?

She knew she no longer hated him—no, truthfully, she had never hated him—she simply hadn't known him. And now, well, she had to admit, she still didn't know him very well, but she certainly knew enough to realize sarcasm and mockery were only the shallow exterior of his character. Beneath, he was turning out to be much more—perceptive, sensitive, caring, and warm. And, although she had assumed him to be experienced, she had never, thinking of his kisses and heated touches, expected his intensity, his selflessness, his passion.

It was something that confused her, for she had always felt an undeniable connection with Tuxedo Kamen when they touched, and yet she could not get him to respond to her, not the way Mamoru did. With him it seemed so easy and, despite their foundation of mutual dislike, she had found she could please him—did please him. Last night was proof enough. That had even been after she had thrown up in front of him twice—not exactly at her most attractive. And really, shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't she have to try harder to entice Mamoru, rather than Tuxedo Kamen? And she certainly had never done anything as unattractive as throwing up in front of Tuxedo Kamen, so what was the problem? And was it really love that she felt for her masked—

A feathered touch, at the base of her spine, startled Usagi from her thoughts. Rolling over, she came face to face with Mamoru, a lazy smile across his lips, looking like a hungry panther, all dark sinew.

"Morning."

"Morning." She greeted, about to ask him if he had slept okay, but lost the words when he licked his lips slowly, pinning her with cobalt eyes.

There was a pause, perhaps only seconds in length, though it felt more like an eternity, before he made his move. But when he did, at last, it was like lightening and she squeaked in surprise, any lingering thoughts of Tuxedo Kamen vanishing instantly, as he pressed himself against her, his desire evident. Her heart sped up, remembering how firm and smooth he'd been in her hand, and her sex quivered in anticipation.

"Is it too early for a little lesson?" He whispered, his hand skimming over her hip to slide between her thighs, knowing very well that her underwear were in his dryer. He found her warm and wet, stroked her in confidence. Obviously, it wasn't too early, he grinned, watching how her cheeks flushed in pleasure, lashes fluttering. And he noticed, giddily in love, that she still hadn't broken their gaze. Her eyes were bold. She wasn't about to retreat.

And he knew she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, lying before with him on a Saturday, legs akimbo, open to his touch and luring words. And for now, though knowing it all an illusion, she was his to hold and to have and to pretend—today, she felt more than mere gratitude.

Today, they were in love. Today, they were forever. Today, they were real.

"If I remember correctly, last night, you said you wanted my tongue on you." Her answering blush, encouraged him on. "You like my tongue, don't you? I know you do, you like what I can do with it—love how it makes you feel."

"I…ah…oh, yes—" She finally agreed breathlessly, her clit a hard bundle of nerves beneath his knowing thumb, and, reaching out to touch his stomach, she ran her fingers over the taut expanse of flesh. "But I like touching you too."

"That can be arranged." His murmured words, husky and low, thread through her mind, seductive as smoke, sending shivers down her spine.

"Show me." She tugged then on the elastic of his pants, a command. Closing legs to his invading fingers, she took her shirt off first and then helped him out of his clothes. Once freed, she grabbed his cock, stroking him just right, remembering how he had come in the shower, all jerking hips and bitten lips.

"Not so fast," he warned, sitting up to grab her legs. Dragging her up by the knees, he rolled them on their sides and spread her wide, leg bent over his head. Then his tongue was on her, lapping from her clit to entrance, where he dipped it teasingly inside.

"Oh my god!" She cried out, hips jerking in response. The pleasure was so intense that she sunk her teeth into the tender skin below his navel. She felt his cock jump in her grip, a bead of moisture forming at the head. Fascinated, she stroked faster, and watched it grow. Then, as it began to slide, not fully realizing what she was doing, she licked it up before it could fall—it was salty, slightly sweet, and not at all unpleasant. She took him in her mouth then, tongued the head in search of more, and never ceased her stroking—thinking she could do this, she could like this, she could enjoy this.

Mamoru knew he was close, could feel his orgasm coiled at the base of his spine, ready and waiting. Yanking her roughly, grip like steel, he hauled her on top of him, determined to make her come. He sucked her hard, angling his head so he could slide two fingers into her, curling them against her trembling walls. There he stroked her, faster and faster until she was spiraling out of control.

He knew her orgasm was there before she did—the tumble over the peak was quick, though it gave way to a long, drawn out, descent. She mewled and rode the waves of pleasure, mouth and thighs vibrating around him, and even when he came shortly after, in smooth, milky-ropes of sweetness, she still saw stars. In those blissful moments of aftermath, she found the taste of him everywhere—on her tongue, down her throat, around her heart. Delicious, she thought and swallowed it all. Shifting with a sigh, she rolled beside him, a languid stretch of limbs.

"Are you okay?" He appeared above her, instantly worried, despite her glowing face. "I should have warned you. I didn't mean to—"

"Mamo-chan," she giggled, pulling him to her by the nape of his neck. "You're all salty-sweet goodness—a taffy-treat. You don't have to worry, I like taffy."

She kissed him to prove her point, their tongues mingling, though all too brief. Then she was out of his arms with a sugar-cookie-smile, it was a sudden vice around his heart, as she skipped across his bedroom, finally glancing back from the bathroom door.

"We taste delicious." She winked, her laughter like Christmas bells, before she disappeared, calling cheerily over her shoulder, "I'm hungry. Won't you make us breakfast?"

At first, Mamoru couldn't help but smile at her cheer, her happiness infectious. Though he knew how dangerous it would be to read too much into her smiles. And he reminded himself, frowning darkly, that she wasn't in love with him. To her, this was only a game—the physical gratification a mere side-effect of the experience, which was all in preparation for the real thing. A real love they'd never share.

He thought bitterly of her love and compared it to Christmas, something that was all fairytales and make-believe. Mamoru told himself that anything that was so full of magic, such as her love, would be forever unattainable, for he had grown up a long time ago, knowing hope, the key ingredient, was not something to count on.

And he knew they were nearing a culmination—an inevitable climax—which he despised himself for his foresight, preferring ignorance, knowing the end would break his heart.

…

He watched her over his coffee, in deep contemplation, as she shoveled down all three of the blueberry pancakes he had made for her with ease. She sat across from him at his island counter, newly showered and sparkling in her black dress once again. He didn't want her to leave and, scared of the loss that lurked around the corner, wondered how he could make this last.

"What are you doing today?" He asked, set his mug aside, and opened a magazine, flipping through its pages at random, not wanting to seem too interested.

"Oh, nuff-ffring wrrree-lly," she replied, mouth full. She gulped down the rest of her milk and sighed in contentment. "I just have to stop back home, change, and then I'm supposed to meet the girls at Crown Royal for a—er—a lunch date."

"Oh, sounds fun." Mamoru's tone was non-committal. He suddenly stopped flipping pages and, at the sight of a glossy advertisement of exotic fish and rainbow-coral, a full-fledged plan began to take shape. "Say Usagi, I was wondering, if you're not doing anything afterwards that is, if you might like to—I dunno—go see the new aquarium that opened up? With me?"

"Really?" Though surprised by his request, the thought of spending the rest of afternoon with Mamoru filled her with excited butterflies. "Oh, I'd love to!"

"Are you sure?" He couldn't help it, he had to make sure she was serious, for he had not expected her to have agreed so easily. "You don't mind wasting the rest of your Saturday on me?"

She giggled and took his breath away with a dazzling smile, punching his shoulder playfully. "It won't be so bad, Mamoru. I think I'm beginning to like spending time with you."

In a whirl of gold and flying limbs, she told him to meet her at the arcade around two, and then she was gone.

…

As they rode the elevator up to his apartment, pressed against his side, Usagi couldn't deny the fact that the date had been amazing, though she wasn't sure if it was a date at all. But secretly, she decided to call it one, at least to herself, in order to claim it as the best date she'd ever been on—not that she'd been on many, but that was beside the point.

She smiled, remembering how Mamoru, ever punctual, had strolled through the arcade doors at two o'clock, looking devastatingly handsome in dark jeans and a worn in black t-shirt. He had not been embarrassed, as Usagi had thought he would, when he picked her up. Instead, he walked, without hesitation, straight up to their table.

Predictably, the busy chatter of her friends had fallen into surprised silence.

"Ready, Odango?" She remembered his hair had been messy, windblown and undeniably sexy, which when he pointed out the window to the sleek, jet-black motorcycle had made perfect sense. Perceptively, he asked her friends, "Didn't she tell you girls? The Odango Atama won a bet, and so I promised to take her for a ride."

She had caught his double-entendre with a blush and watched him head outside, knowing she would follow. Once he had gone, the girls had hissed: "But with Mamoru? Usagi, don't you hate each other?"

She had shrugged, especially enjoying Rei's envious look, and scooted out of the booth. Oh, how shocked all of them would be, she had mused, to know the full details of their relationship—how he kissed her, touched her, made her come with ease, high above Tokyo, safely tucked away from everything else. She had been annoyed at their questions, rolling her eyes at their astonished faces.

"Oh, come on! You guys don't really expect me to pass up a ride on a motorcycle, do you? Even if it is Mamoru-baka's."

And then she had left, glad to be gone, finally wrapped around Mamoru with only the wind to keep them company. At each light, he had either dropped a hand to one of her knees, which she had pressed tightly against his sides, or squeezed her clenched fists, gripping his waist, in reassurance.

"Don't be afraid, I won't let you fall."

"I'm not afraid," she had replied.

And once at the aquarium, where it had been filled with unfamiliar faces, he had wrapped an arm around her shoulders like her boyfriend, leading her through the maze of corridors, lips pressed into her hair. He had teased her, toyed with her arousal with stolen kisses and sly touches until her heart was pounding so loud she couldn't hear or think or see anything else but him.

And even now, hours later, she was still dizzy with it all—her emotions a spinning mess inside her quivering chest. Was this, she wondered, as they stepped onto his floor, love? Could she be in love with Mamoru? Oh, her heart sped up in realization, this must be love! She was in love—in crazy, insane, passionate love!

"Mamo-chan!" She exclaimed and caught him by surprise, legs wrapping around his hips, mouth on his. With her latched around him, he managed to stumble inside his apartment, where he swung her hard up against the wall. She grunted at the impact, but didn't seem to mind, rather it only increased the kittenish sounds she was making into his open mouth.

Oh, she was everywhere, he thought through a haze, with her lips and her hands and her rolling hips. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. And when she began to gnaw on underside of his jaw, he shuddered, knees buckling, and fell to the floor with her in a tangle of limbs.

Everything was a blur, her words the only thing he could hear.

"I want you. I want you. Now. Now. Now." She told him, an endless chant, yanking them both out of shirts and pants and skirts and shoes. And he let her, not realizing what she wanted, until—oh, fucking hell—she had him there, poised at her entrance, wet and real and quivering and—

"No, no, no!" He pushed her away in a panic, chest heaving. Fuck, that was too close, and he had promised himself that he would not be selfish. No, he would not take something so precious, no matter how much he loved her. No, he would not be that kind of man. "You should go."

"But Mamoru…" She whimpered, eyes brimming with tears. She didn't understand. Why wouldn't he look at her? What had she done wrong? What had she missed? Wasn't today different? Hadn't they been different? Hadn't everything changed? "I don't understand."

With his eyes fixed on the wall, he kept his voice distant. He had stopped trembling. "I thought I had made it clear that I wouldn't sleep with you."

"Yes, but—"

"No, buts. It's over. You need to go home."

She nodded and wiped her eyes, determined not to break down in front of him. She dressed in silence and grabbed her things. At the door, she looked down at him. He was still pressed against the wall.

"Mamoru, won't you look at me?"

Unwillingly, he did as she asked. Her smile was sad, eyes a haunted blue. Oh, why did she have to look as if he had just broken her heart?

"Arigato."

And it seemed fitting to them both, for her to leave with the same words as the first time, because, after all, this was really the end—wasn't it? Everything had come full circle.

She had grown up, she realized—turning from this irreversible moment in her life. And as she left him in that darkened apartment, she shed her adolescent skin, and walked away a woman.


	8. Chapter 8: Past the Pretense

Author's Note:

This is for Sam and her constant encouragement. And this is for Brian, for letting me spill my woes. And lastly, most importantly, this is for everyone who's reviewed. Please enjoy. You have all my love.

I apologize for the delay. I literally thought finals were going to be the death of me. And, I confess, this past week I've been enjoying being thoroughly lazy. And yes, this may be short, and yes, you're going to kill me winkwink. But, there is just one more chapter, after chapter eight, which is half written and I promise it will be worth the wait. Well—I hope it will be. So please read and review. Make me smile, as I hope I make you.

Much love,

PrincessJade

**Insatiable**

**Chapter Eight: Past the Pretense**

_To be lost in the forest_

_To be cut adrift_

_You've been trying to reach me_

_You bought me a book_

_To be lost in the forest_

_To be cut adrift_

_I've been paid_

_I've been paid_

_Don't get offended_

_If I seem absent minded_

_Just keep telling me facts_

_And keep making me smile_

_Don't get offended_

_If I seem absent minded_

_I get tongue-tied_

_Baby, you've got to be more discerning_

_I've never known what's good for me_

_Baby, you've got to be more demanding_

_I will be yours_

_I'll pay for you anytime_

_You told me you wanted to eat up my sadness_

_Well jump on, enjoy, you can gorge away_

_You told me you wanted to eat up my sadness_

_Jump right_

_Baby, you've got to be more discerning_

_I've never known what's good for me_

_Baby, you've got to be more demanding_

_Jump left_

_What are you holding out for?_

_What's always in the way?  
Why so damn absent-minded?_

_Why so scared of romance?_

_This modern love breaks me_

_This modern love breaks me_

_Do you wanna come over and kill some time?_

_Tell me facts, tell me facts, tell me facts_

_Tell me facts_

_Throw your arms around me_

Bloc Party- This Modern Love

Usagi was different, Mamoru sensed, as he watched her from his seat in the back. She had just walked in with the rest of the girls, their chatter instantly falling with a pleasant hum over the normal hustle and bustle of the arcade. She trailed behind Rei, dressed in slim jeans and a gauzy pink camisole, looking young and fresh and impossibly bright.

When they slid into a booth near the front, Usagi waved happily at Motoki who came over to take their order. She was laughing, skin flushed with life, and Mamoru realized how much he really missed her. He hadn't seen her, much less spoken to her, in over a week. Ten extremely long and miserable days, to be exact, in which he first grieved her absence and then fought the urge to seek her out by assuring himself that he had done the right thing. Still, despite all his reasoning, her sad eyes still haunted him.

Tossing a few bills down, he stood to leave, hoping to escape her notice, when she caught his gaze from across the room. Her smile had faded, face realigning itself into a new look, one that he didn't want to decipher. He headed for the doors, panicking as he saw her rise from her seat and head his way.

Oh, no, please. No, don't come over here. No—fuck. What a sadist little bitch. Was she purposefully trying to kill him?

"Mamoru," she greeted and caught his arm, forcing him to face her. "Are you leaving already? I haven't seen you at all this week. I've missed—"

"The orgasms?" He asked quietly, so only she could hear. He saw the way her eyes widened and knew he had surprised her. Shrugging out of her grasp, he moved past her. "I gave you what you asked for. I gave you your _experience_. Now go find some other boy to fuck. I don't have time for your silly games anymore."

He walked away then, needing to be far away from her, craving the safety of his apartment where he could wallow in his misery without guilt.

The glass doors swung behind him with a flourish and, secretly, he liked the dramatic flair. After all, he was Tuxedo Kamen, was he not? Glancing back, he found her standing where he left her, china-blue eyes wide and sad.

Quickly, his guilt rose like bile in his throat, its taste bitter across his tongue. And for a moment, he held her gaze, wondering if he had been too harsh.

He knew he should apologize. She deserved it. He had hurt her feelings, there was no mistaking it. And he knew it wasn't her fault, she wasn't to blame—how could she be? She couldn't stop being beautiful. She couldn't stop being herself. She couldn't have known what was to happen.

Really, it was his fault that he fell in love.

But as he was about to walk back in and apologize with an offer of friendship, she turned away. And as she walked back to her friends, he realized she was through with him. He could see it in the square of her shoulders, the determined line of her spine, and he knew it was for the best. She'd heal. After all, his rejection had only hurt her self esteem.

Heading home, his thoughts were grim.

Perhaps it was time to take Sailor Moon up on her offer.

…

The youma had not been especially difficult tonight.

In fact, Sailor Moon, for once, had not even needed his assistance. For by the time he had arrived, he saw from his precarious position, held on the ledge of a nearby building, that the rest of the Senshi had already weakened the creature into quite a pathetic sight. It had practically begged for its end, which Sailor Moon had delivered with ease, all righteous words and hands.

She was a golden-haired goddess; one who was justice and redemption and salvation and death—and a million other things—all rolled into one. So consumed by his thoughts, Tuxedo Kamen hadn't realized that the Senshi had dispersed until he caught sight of Sailor Moon in the distance—alone and heading east, her boots echoing off into the night.

He ran after her and, leaping agilely from building to building, he caught up with her in no time. As she passed by an alleyway, he dropped down beside her and grabbed a hold of her arm. He was greeted by her surprised face, one which faded quickly into suspicion.

"Have you been following me?" She narrowed her eyes, allowing him to pull her away from the brightly lit street.

What was Tuxedo Kamen up to?

He ignored her question and continued to pull her toward him.

"I've been thinking…" He touched her face, eyes wandering lazily over her mouth. It was pink and small, with a full bottom lip and fuck, she looked just like—No. N. O. This was not the time to think of Usagi. But fuck.

Why did Sailor Moon have to have that same china-blue stare?

"About?" She murmured, gazing up into his masked face. He leaned in closer, face drawn and tight with concentration.

Was Tuxedo Kamen going to kiss her? Finally, after all this time, was this really going to happen? Did she even want this to happen? Did she even want him any more?

An image of Mamoru, standing outside the arcade with his wide hands shoved deep in his pockets, flashed in her mind. He was so far away, so distant—a true impossibility. He would never be hers. But Tuxedo Kamen—maybe, just maybe—was within her grasp.

Besides, she was no normal girl. She didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve older, intelligent, deep, thoughtful, normal Mamoru. Perhaps, Usagi deserved no one. But Sailor Moon—she was a heroine, and didn't she deserve a hero? Didn't she deserve Tuxedo Kamen? Especially if she could never have what she really wanted?

"I've been waiting for this for a long time." She smiled and grabbed a hold of the lapels of his tuxedo. She studied his mouth and was satisfied—at least they felt similar. "Kiss me. I know you want to."

"I—" He tilted her chin up, looked deep into her eyes, and his resolve faltered. She wasn't Usagi. She would never be Usagi. "This is a mistake. I'm not in love with you…and I can't. I'm sorry. You deserve better than this."

He let her go and stumbled away, like she had the plague. And strangely, she wasn't hurt. Instead, her heart went out to him—she understood. After all, she was in love too.

"What's her name?"

He turned, a familiar smile on his lips. It was one she'd seen before, a smile that took her breath away, but before she could figure out why, he stopped her heart with a single name.

"Usako."

And then he was gone.

It took Sailor Moon a full five seconds to realize what had just happened. And then, with a hammering heart, she was soaring across the Tokyo rooftops in pursuit. Only she did not follow Tuxedo Kamen, who she knew had headed west, in hopes of alluding her.

Too bad she already knew where his destination was.

So instead, she headed north, the most direct route, toward a glittering apartment on the thirty-seventh floor.

And there, sprawled out on an expensive lounge chair, she would wait.

…

Twenty minutes later, Tuxedo Kamen finally returned, landing with a feline grace that was all too familiar.

That asshole.

Sailor Moon had had plenty of time to simmer—and simmer she did. She was practically livid by the time she met his stunned gaze.

"Sailor Moon? What? But how—" He looked down at her in astonishment.

How the hell had she found him?

She was out of his chair in an instant, face angry and indignant. She jabbed him hard in the chest with her index finger.

What was wrong with her? Was she fucking crazy? She was insane!

"You stupid, stupid jerk! You asshole! You stupid…stupid baka!" She beat her little fists against him with each word. Her wounded gaze surprised him. He was so lost.

"Look…fuck…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to kiss you. I should have known that I couldn't fall out of love with—"

"Shut the fuck up, Mamoru. You are such a baka!" She roared, tears in her eyes, and punched him square in face. His nose made a satisfying crunch and she almost laughed out loud. This whole situation was absurd.

When he pulled a hand from his face and found his nose unbroken, but bleeding, he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. Not caring if he smeared his blood across her pristine fuka. "Fuck! What was that for? What the hell is—wait. Did you just call me Mamoru?"

Suddenly, he felt his world begin to spin.

"Yes, you idiot!" She grabbed his bloody hand and pressed it to her chest, where her brooch lay. Then with a shimmer and a glow, he, speechless and stunned, found a sobbing Usagi where Sailor Moon had just stood. She hit him again, when he simply stared at her, blue eyes brimming over with frustration. She was crying in earnest now."You stupid, stupid baka. It's always been you. Always."

And then she was in his arms.


	9. Chapter 9: An Emerging Dawn

Author's Note:

Here is the final installment of Insatiable—although I am still contemplating turning this into a series. We shall see. Currently I am working on Glimpse and Sea Glass, so I probably will try and get those out of the way before attempting a sequel—but I suppose I can always be persuaded. Hehe.

And I never said I was taking Insatiable down. That would just be plain silly. I'm sorry to those who interpreted it that way. And please, no more comments about "experience reader" and all of that other drama. Thank you for all of your opinions, but they are unnecessary. I defended myself to the person in question and that is all that matters. No need to get all of my darling readers involved. All right, hopefully all of that is over.

So lastly, thank you to all of you who have been here from the beginning. Your continuous support was wonderful. And thank you for all of your reviews—about the actual story—they were much loved and appreciated. So please, enjoy, review, and who knows! A sequel shall most likely follow.

Much Love,

PrincessJade

PS: Sam, I adore you, darling. You have no idea how much! This is all for you.

**Insatiable**

**Chapter Nine: An Emerging Dawn**

_If you be my star_

_I'll be your sky_

_You can hide underneath me and come out at night_

_When I turn jet black and you show off your light_

_I live to let you shine_

_I live to let you shine_

_But you can skyrocket away from me_

_And never come back if you find another galaxy_

_Far from here with more room to fly_

_Just leave me your stardust to remember you by_

_If you be my boat_

_I'll be your sea_

_A depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity_

_Ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze_

_I live to make you free_

_I live to make you free_

_But you can set sail to the west if you want to_

_And past the horizon 'till I can't even see you_

_Far from here where the beaches are wide_

_Just leave me your wake to remember you by_

_If you be my star_

_I'll be your sky_

_You can hide underneath me and come out at night_

_When I turn jet black and you show off your light_

_I live to let you shine_

_I live to let you shine_

_But you can skyrocket away from me_

_And never come back if you find another galaxy_

_Far from here with more room to fly_

_Just leave me your stardust to remember you by_

_Stardust to remember you by_

_Gregory and the Hawk- Boats and Birds_

He could taste the salt of her tears mixed with the metallic tang of his blood. Her warm little hands were in his hair—grabbing and tugging in sync with her sweet rosebud of a mouth. She smelt of sweat and frustration, thighs wrapped around his waist as her sobs echoed down his throat.

"Usagi, wait," he protested and stumbled forward, pressing her against the sliding glass door for support. They were both trembling. He tried to align his whirling thoughts, but all he could feel was her—her hands, her heat, her moist demanding mouth. His heart pounded loudly in his ears. "Wait. Please, wait."

She pulled back, when she finally allowed herself to hear his words—wait, wait, wait—and studied his face. With guilt, she realized, she nearly broke his nose.

At least the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit you."

He sensed her anger had deteriorated, ebbing away like a sandcastle does under the continuous caress of the ocean's tide. And though her face was red and blotchy, nose swollen and shiny with snot, he saw that her eyes were gloriously luminous, appearing as if she had caught two glistening pearls between her fluttering lashes.

She was so beautiful.

But, of course, he had always known she was beautiful. With a sigh, he dropped his forehead to hers in defeat.

"It's okay. I guess I deserved it."

She smiled, one hand releasing its hold of his hair, and tugged the white mask free. She touched his temple and then traced the line of his brow with the tip of her thumb.

"Tuxedo Kamen. Mamoru. Mamo-chan." She kissed him once, twice, and then thrice—mouth latching onto his bottom lip like he was one of Motoki's milkshakes. She began to cry again, but silently. And this time, when she looked at him, her eyes were only full of love. "I can't believe it was you. It was you all along."

"How did you know?"

"You said Usako." She whispered, kissing his nose gently. "And then I knew. I knew. Say it again. Say it, please."

"Usako." He obeyed her command, helpless against her solemn face, and the word fell from his lips like a prayer. And he knew this was the beginning of something new—something amazing. "Usako. Fuck, my sweet Usako."

Still he was afraid, even as her hands began to unbutton his shirt.

"Let's go inside."

"But—"

"No." She silenced him with her mouth and stroked his face, knuckles skimming along the planes of his cheek, angles sharp under the light of the moon. "I loved you before tonight, before I knew who you were. I loved you as Mamoru. Being Tuxedo Kamen doesn't change a thing—it only means I've loved you far longer than I ever would have thought."

Oh, she was the most amazinglovelydarlingsweetest girl he'd ever known.

He had no words of protest. And his doubts—though they were there a moment ago—seemed to have vanished. How could he deny himself this? How could he deny himself her love?

"Usagi," he looked deep into her eyes and fuck, he felt like they were going to swallow him whole. "This isn't practice anymore."

"No, no, no." She cried into his ear as he hitched her up, so she was pressed tight against him, and slid open the door. "No, this is real. We're real, Mamoru. So real."

…

He brought her there with his fingers first, with her splayed across his sofa, skin so white he could see the blue of her veins. Then in the hall, again, with his mouth, teeth, and tongue he had her crying his name, delirious with pleasure. By the time they made it to the bedroom, she was impatience defined. And she pushed him down, eyes wild beneath her hair as she straddled his hips, wet and ready.

"You don't have—"

"No, I want this. I want you."

His cock was pressed against his belly and she slid up the length of him, lips parted to reveal her clit, sensitive and swollen, from the base to the head. Pressed against her, right at her entrance, once again, he gripped her hips to stop her.

"In the drawer—"

She shook her head, hair glimmering like spun gold. "Pill."

"Oh." He had not expected that. Oh, fuck, and then she was taking him in, slowly, eyes on his—fearless.

Amazing.

Yes, this was amazing, and she gripped his hands to steady her quaking thighs. She felt as if he was molding her, shaping her, so she would only be his—her perfect fit. Though it stung, it was nothing like she imagined. Really, it didn't hurt—it was a good hurt—and as she moved back up she felt the discomfort slowly fade. She found a rhythm and arching her back, she discovered she could press her clit against his pelvis on each down stroke.

"Mmm, good. Mamoru, this is so good."

He was doing okay until she rotated her hips, mouth falling open with a kittenish mewl. Fuck, he sat up in a flash and grabbed her tight.

He was going to make this last, even if it killed him.

"Come here. Not so fast. Shh, that's my girl." He held her, hands stroking the bottom of her spine. She sighed, pressed a hot kiss into the dip of his shoulder as he lifted her up and then back down—slowly. So slowly, so gloriously, that she felt her toes curl. His words were low and loving. They twined through her mind, dark and sensuous. "My gorgeous, gorgeous girl. Your cunt is amazing. You're amazing. Sweet, sweet Usako."

"Oh. God." She gasped. He tilted her back, following her down to the edge of the bed. Now on top, he pressed her knees to his sheets, knowing her body was limber enough, and pulled almost all the way out. There, with just the tip of his cock, he fucked her with steady, but shallow strokes. Then, when she was whimpering and clawing at his back, he thrust himself inside, full hilt, with a groan. Fuck. She was so tight. Impossibly so.

"Again! Oh my god. Mamoru." She cried out, chest heaving. "Oh, please, please, please."

She was stunning. Spread out beneath him, eyes unfocused, skin tinged pink, stomach quivering. And she was his. Oh, she was his. All his.

"Usako. So beautiful. Look at you."

"Oh, Mamo-chan. Oh, I love…I love—" She grabbed at his hips and drew him in, so deep she swore she could feel him right up against her thudding heart. "I think—"

"I know, darling. Sweet, sweet girl. I know. I've got you." He told her as he sped up his movements—though carefully controlled, so as not to hurt her—and watched as she began to spend.

But it wasn't until he felt her orgasm, as her sweet little muscles began to undulate, a rolling ocean all around him, that he finally let himself go.

…

She was boneless and sleepy and so insanely in love—it was almost disgusting.

"Mamoru," she giggled and pointed out his window. "It's almost morning."

He raised his head from the curve of her belly, fingers embedded possessively in her dripping sex. Was that the fifth or sixth orgasm? He couldn't really remember. He looked out and could see that the sky was beginning to turn a dusky pink.

He couldn't help but wonder what the light would bring.

Would things be different?

She was smiling as he crawled up her body and brushed her bangs aside.

"Usagi."

"Mamoru." She replied, touched the swollen part of his nose. "Oh, I'm so sorry about this."

"Shh, it's okay." He caught her hand, held it in his after he dropped a kiss into her palm. "What is this, really? What are we?"

"Why we're in love."

He couldn't help but laugh. Her expression touched him to the core. "Usako. I know. But, seriously, what do we do next? How are we going to tell—"

Now it was her turn to shush him, but, instead, she did it with a wiggle of her hips. She kissed his neck, arms wrapping around him. "Don't think. Don't talk. Just come here."

"Am here. And we really need to think—"

"Be quiet. We'll find out. Promise. But I know it'll be good and…" He groaned when she wrapped a hand around him. "Wonderful."

He was laughing again. How could he not with her around?

"God, you're insatiable!"

"I know! I can't help it—it's only because you're amazing."

Then she joined him in his laughter, her giggles like sunshine.

She was his morning, he realized, with his hands wrapped in her hair.

She was his beginning. His eternal dawn.


End file.
